


Radio Tried To Kill the Video Star

by wifidelis



Series: Radio and Nawlins [1]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Again, Alastor gets his ass beat, Alastor is Bad at Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, But Still Shippy, Demons Are Assholes, F/F, Husker Is Too, Husker deals with him, M/M, Not Shippy, Other, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:16:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21752107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wifidelis/pseuds/wifidelis
Summary: Alastor gets his ass beat in a fight with Vox. Husk is the only one qualified to deal with a whiney, bitchy Alastor.Well, only one who isn't afraid to deal with a whiney, bitchy Alastor.
Relationships: Alastor & Husk (Hazbin Hotel), Charlie Magne/Vaggie
Series: Radio and Nawlins [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1571806
Comments: 32
Kudos: 465





	Radio Tried To Kill the Video Star

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate title: Stop! You can't do that! Why? He's Bambi! What? He's BAMBI!

There were things in this world that stood be impossible. Even in Hell, there were things that shouldn’t be able to happen. Things like the US government admitting global warming was real and actually doing something about it, or the Office not being taken off of Netflix. But then there were things that should be impossible because they were terrifying. Completely, utterly, heart-exploding-out-of-your-ribs terrifying. Noises in the dead of night. Someone following you from ever so slightly too close a distance. Chocolate covered bacon.

Alastor’s ears going flat against his skull, eyes widening with a hand raised to cover his face, a high-pitched screech of a scream wrenched from his lungs and the startled explosion of static as black claws gored through thin flesh. 

He stumbled back, smile quivering as he hunched over, blood pouring freely down his front as his horns all but vanished into their short stubs, aura dissipating into thin air. Red tears formed in the corners of his eyes as Alastor spat blood at his own red soaked leather shoes, trembling as slits of pupils traveled up to stare the TV Demon in the face. Vox grabbed the smaller man by his throat, a garbled whine escaping the Radio Demon’s chest, a sharp claw slicing through the fabric to expose mottled, scarred flesh from old wounds.

“Oh, Alastor…” Vox’s voice crackled. “Is that where they got you? Is that where they ripped out your throat?”

Charlie’s vision was blurred. Vaggie was holding her against her chest, her own leg twisted and gnarled from where it had broken. The gray demon held a trembling hand around her spear, trying to keep Charlie as close to her as possible. Husk was crouched, lip bleeding, claws out, and wings raised protectively over a knocked out, splayed out Angel and a crying Niffty. Charlie was reaching out to Alastor, who for some reason had elected to take on Vox all by himself.

And Alastor’s fingers were going slack, scrambling feebly against Vox’s hands. Vox laughed as Alastor growled, though it sounded more like a weak moan. One of Alastor’s eyes was bloodshot red as it usually was, but the other… the sclera had gone white, the scarlet red gone amber. It looked… surprisingly human.

The fear in it confirmed it.

Vox’s long tongue snaked out between razor sharp teeth, licking up Alastor’s cheek. Alastor kicked weakly at Vox’s stomach, trying desperately to crane away from anything attached to Vox. 

“You’re still just prey after all,  _ Alastor. _ Hunted down by the dogs after you got yourself caught, mistook for the animal you take the form of… Are you still trying to fight back?”

Charlie was trying to haul Vaggie’s arm off her. She was trying to lurch forward, but her head was swimming and blood was still sliding down her face. Husker wished she would just stop trying. If Alastor was beaten and bloody, they would just be smears across the concrete.

“Charlie, please don’t-”

But Charlie was already stumbling forward, trying to focus on the red blur that liked to make her life more than a living hell. Husker cursed.

“A-al…as-tor?”

Vox’s attention snapped over to the limping princess, effectively whacking Alastor over the head in the process. The black figure threw Alastor to the ground in a bloody, shredded heap. The sharp click of Vox’s heels filled the silence the radio static previously occupied. Charlie staggered backwards, flinching when the TV Demon’s sharp form loomed over her.

“Pitiful,” Vox laughed. “You’re pitiful, princess. You put stock in prey when you should be trying to put predators in your pockets.”

A finger lifted her chin up to look him in the eye. Charlie snarled defiantly and slapped his wrist away, red eyes glowing with hatred. Vox snarled, raising his hand when the screech of swing filled the air, followed by a black tentacle wrapping around Vox’s waist and hurling him into the side of the hotel and through the wall. Charlie looked back from where she had flinched away to see Alastor with a bloody hand clenched in her direction, wheezing through gritted teeth and a pained smile before collapsing on his stomach.

Before she could even move, Husk was at Alastor’s side, flipped the stick of a man onto his back. Husk flicked off his cracked monocle and grabbed Alastor’s pale face between his paws, scowling.

“You cheesy fucker,” Husk’s voice was strained. “What were you thinking?”

Alastor’s eyes drooped shut and Husk slapped him. The demon’s eyes jerked back open with a glower as Charlie stumbled forward, sinking to her knees on Alastor’s other side. Alastor’s eyes skirted over to her, softening ever so slightly before Husk jostled him again.

“Alastor,  _ heal _ .”

The Radio Demon spit blood out to the side. “Husker… do you think I’m-” he coughed “electing to bleed out?”

“No,” Husker snapped. “You… What the fuck, Alastor? Come on…”

“Stop… touching me.”

“Every time I take my hands off of you, your eyes shut, so forgive me for trying to keep your miserable existence from ending.”

Charlie was starting to cry. She felt a hand on her shoulder and glanced to the side to see Vaggie, who looked winded from dragging herself over to the small group. Niffty had joined too, leaning over into Alastor’s field of vision. Her big eye was dripping tears onto the ground, sniffing as Husker jostled him, jerking Alastor awake again.

“Come on, do your freaky voodoo shit,” Husker snapped. “Fuckin’... magic your ass or somethin’-”

“Husker,” Alastor drolled. “Do I-i look like I’m in any condition to start drawing magic circles right now?”

“We’ll do it,” Charlie said quickly, though she had to steady herself on Vaggie from the sudden movement. “Wh-wha’ d’we gotta do?”

“You’re enthusiasm is misplaced, darling,” Alastor coughed. Charlie choked on her tears as Niffty’s crocodile tears turned into loud sobs as Vaggie pulled the little demon in. Husker frowned, glaring down at Alastor. Alastor was watching Niffty, his smile becoming faker by the second. Husker sighed, looking glancing over at Angel, who was only just now starting to stir.

“So, this is it, Al? All the years of torture you put me through, and you decide to go out defending a hotel and people you don’t even believe in?” Husker laughed dryly. “You never make any damn sense.”

Alastor opened his mouth to retort when a loud bang and snapping click from inside the hotel roared to life. He cursed and shoved himself up on his elbows, a strangled sound bouncing around in his chest as the slashes across his abdomen meshed together.

“Get me up, Husker.”

Husk groaned and hauled Alastor up under the arms, steadying the winded demon on his feet. Alastor was wheezing, shaking as he summoned his cane, his full weight on the sentient microphone as its eye bounced around anxiously. Bricks and dust flew as Vox crashed through the wall, red eyes wild and screen rapidly changing between images of carnage as his wicked gaze settled on the hunched over Alastor.

“Wh’ th’ fuck’s goin’ on?” Angel rasped out, yelping when Husker dragged him behind his wings, opening them protectively. Charlie peeked out between the feathers to see Alastor’s aura opening up again, feedback growing louder with his horns warping once again.

_ “You don’t know how to go down quietly, do you, Alastor?” _

“No quieter than your mother on a Friday night, my friend.”

_ “I’ll have your HEAD.” _

Alastor slammed his cane down as a circle expanded around his feet, black tentacles exploding from around his feet, flicking over his bloodstained front. They worked furiously around his feet, producing a bloody magic circle akin to a sinister looking flower, glowing an atrociously violent neon green.

_ “You’re resorting to voodoo? Do I have you cornered, Bambi?” _

“I haven’t the faintest clue of what you mean,” Alastor rasped. “But you’ll regret saying it.”

The circle exploded in energy, flowing into Alastor. The Radio Demon’s aura screamed as it burst outwards into green, shadows swarming around the circle with spectral glowing eyes and shrill, impish laughter. Alastor smiled, straightening up as radio feedback began crackling in warped, stacked voices and demented language. Vox growled and lunged forward when he suddenly smacked into an invisible force, Alastor’s shadow demons surging forward like the River Styx.

Vox screamed as they ripped into him, the sounds of sheared flesh roaring louder than any of the static pouring out of Alastor’s aura. The Radio Demon cackled and slammed down his staff, the demons parting like the Red Sea for their master. Alastor leaned over Vox’s shredded visage at the center of the circle, smile broad as his eyes ticked into dials.

“ _ WHO HAS WHO CORNERED NOW? OH, AHA! THE ‘PREY’!” _

The television demon hissed and vanished, leaving scraps of torn black suit in his wake. Alastor’s shoulders sagged in relief, the circle vanishing under his feet as he toppled over, caught by Husk in the knick of time before his head smacked into the street. Alastor gagged, flipping to his side as he vomited a thick stream of spit and blood, whimpering. Husk gripped him tightly, almost like he was afraid to let go, like he was the only thing tethering Alastor to reality.

“Hey,” Husk mumbled. “Let’s get you inside.”

Alastor allowed Husk to haul him up in a fireman’s carry, ears flattening back again. His head lolled to rest against Husk’s chest, nestling in the soft fur. Alastor was shaking. Husk wasn’t sure what was happening to Alastor, but he was scared. The only time Husker had seen Alastor in such a state… He shuddered.

Husker glanced at the group, jutting his chin back towards the hotel. He began to lug Alastor’s limp, scrawny ass back inside, stomach churning as he looked down at Alastor’s ruined flesh. Memories of gas and trees and napalm tried to flood his senses before Husk abruptly shoved them out. He itched for a drink, but he set Alastor down gingerly on the sofa, watching as the wounds started to smoke and cauterize, though they weren’t closing. Husk stiffened.

“Cognac?” He asked. Alastor nodded, exhaling heavily through his nose as Niffty settled on an ottoman by his head, hand repeatedly reaching out and shrinking away from patting Alastor on between the horns. Angel managed to help Charlie and Vaggie back inside, the trio flopping down on the other couch as Husk grabbed Alastor’s choice bottle of Courvoisier, bringing it back over to his debatable ally.

“Open your mouth, weirdass,” Husk snapped. “And stop smiling.”

Alastor glowered at him and dropped his jaw open, allowing Husker to pour some of the amber liquid down his throat. Niffty bounced anxiously, twiddling her thumbs as Alastor swallowed.

“Why’re they not healing?” Husker muttered. “They always heal.”

Alastor laughed. “What energy do I have to spare, Husker?”

“... Do you need a sacrifice or some shit-”

“NOT in the lobby!” Niffty snapped, eye twitching. Alastor chuckled and closed his eyes, opening one when he felt Husk’s annoyed gaze on him once again.

“Husker, if I was going to die, it would have been when I was bleeding out on the ground.”

Husk huffed and set the bottle down, tail swishing over the carpet as his shoulders rolled to ease out the tension. The griffon glanced over at the trio on the other couch, noting with relief that they seemed to be able to take care of themselves right now. Niffty had wandered over to them as well, fussing over Vaggie’s leg as Angel held a splint together. That left Husk alone with a cauterized Alastor, who was somehow looking worse by the minute.

“Hey, you get hit anywhere else I should know about?” Husker asked softly. Alastor shrugged, eyes slipping shut. Husker smacked his shoulder, startled when Alastor basically hissed at him in god knows what language. The Radio Demon opened a bleeding eye as Husker pulled him up without any grace, dropping him back down when he saw a second set of gashes painting Alastor’s shoulders a marbled red. His stomach twisted into knots.

“Those are still bleeding.”

“Husker, my f-friend-”

“Don’t even fucking -” Husker’s voice was shaking. “ _ I know a dying man when I see one. _ ”

Alastor sighed through his nose, though the smile remained like it was carved into his face. Husker whistled for Niffty, the smaller demon zipping over with bandages as Husk hauled Alastor off the now bloodsoaked couch. Niffty nearly dropped the wrappings before catching herself, tears forming once again.

“W-we need his shirt off i-if I’m gonna-”

“ _ NO-”  _ Alastor shouted, but Husk had already clawed through Alastor’s ruined jacket and shirt, exposing bare grey skin. Husk went ahead and chucked Alastor’s shoes off too, just in case he started kicking (which he knew from experience could occur). Alastor looked ready to just off himself right them and there as Niffty started sanitizing, his claws digging into the sofa as wounds stung. Husker tried not to stare as Niffty worked because he could see how much this was killing the taller demon, but one thing kept catching his eye.

Alastor had a lot of scars. But the kill scars were probably the worst. Alastor was trying to hide them even now by dropping his head and twisting his neck away from the group, a hand clutched right between his ribs. The bite marks in his neck showed exact x’s where the dogs’ teeth had torn his throat out, with larger x’s where the bullets had shattered through his ribs and skull, right between the eyes and ribs respectively. Once Niffty had wrapped around his chest, Al seemed to relaxed ever so slightly, though he jolted whenever her fingers grazed over skin. He was shaking. Al hated this. Husk watched him slowly spiral until Alastor’s claws had dug right through the cloth-

“Husker-”

“Here-” Husker practically threw the bottle into Alastor’s hands as the Radio Demon threw his head back and  _ chugged _ . He could almost find it comical that  _ Alastor  _ of all of them could throw back alcohol so quickly if he didn’t know it was because Alastor was utterly and completely overwhelmed right now. It… made him sad to see the one man with every answer, who’s voice alone was larger than life reduced to a quivering, nervous wreck calmed only by expensive ass cognac.

Alastor dropped the now empty bottle into his lap as Niffty tied off the bandages, absently staring up at Husker with a dazed expression.

“Better?” Husker whispered. Alastor squinted before nodding, nearly falling forward into Husker’s arms. Husker groaned as memories of-

_ \- of Alastor lying sprawled out on his bed in the radio tower, a shotgun propped up by his bedpost and a red-bladed knife laying across his nightstand. Husker was crouched at the foot of the bed on the chest, wide eyed and amazed as he watched Alastor’s wounds smoke and hiss, crawling at a snail’s pace as they tried to close. Alastor himself was blood soaked over his entire body, but he seemed high. His voice was dreamy and breathless any time he spoke, and it was scaring the shit out of Husker. _

_ “Uh… are you sure you’re okay?” _

_ Alastor smirked as Husker’s worried expression crossed his vision, but he wasn’t looking at Husker. He laughed airily, biting his lip as the loud pop of his ribs snapping back into place jarred him back into reality. Alastor moaned, hand sliding down his face as two more popped back into position, nails digging into the mattress. _

_ “Al, I know first aid-” _

_ A glare shot his suggestion down once again, and they resumed the slow slow process of watching Alastor’s wounds inch toward closing. Alastor’s expression seemed to ground more with every snap or bend, and Husker sat patiently as the masochism was replaced with weak cries of pain. _

_ “This would hurt less if you let me do it.” _

_ “Yes, but then you would have to touch me-” _

_ “For chrissakes Al, what is it gonna take to get you to relax?” _

_ “Courservier.” _

_ “Then conjure some, you fuckass.” _

_ Alastor snapped and a bottle plopped down in Husker’s arms. The smaller demon rolled his eyes and popped the cork out with a claw, passing it over to Alastor. The Radio Demon sighed and threw his head back, chugging down burning amber liquid like his life depended on it. Husk watched in amazement as Alastor let the now empty bottle roll onto the floor, bleeding red eyes shut contently as a drunken stupor relaxed his limbs. Husker watched patiently as the wounds stopped smoking, giving Husker time to gather medical supplies and return to his supposed ally. _

_ When Husker began tried to begin disinfecting, Alastor stiffened. _

_ “Oh come the fuck on,” Husk snapped. “You can’t be this worked up about touch when you’re this plastered-” _

_ “S’not touching,” Alastor snapped right back. “... Scars.” _

_ Husker raised an eyebrow when Alastor threw his head to the side, exposing a ragged assembly of x’s around the right side of his throat. His stomach twisted at the thought of what could have done that, but he didn’t have to wonder for long. _

_ “Dogs,” Alastor laughed. “A fuckin’ dog ripped m’throat out when I was runnin’ from the police-” _

_ Husker raised a higher eyebrow when a Southern accent slipped from somewhere deep in Alastor’s psyche. Whatever little pompous show Alastor put on was gone, replaced by a man Husker was an even greater stranger to. Husker ripped through whatever remained of Alastor’s shirt and discarded the garment, exposing a bigger red x right between Alastor’s disjointed ribs. _

_ “Tha’s where I got shot first,” Alastor drolled, giggling. “‘N then… right between th’ eyes.” _

_ “That’s enough, Al.” _

_ Alastor fell quiet as he began to disinfect wounds, clawing into the sheets as he stiffened up. Husker sighed, watching Alastor tremble as he started to wrap wounds in bandages, sometimes stitching was needed to be forced closed. By the time he was done, Alastor had bit into his lip so hard that was bleeding, leaving to Husker wiping it off with an empty sigh. Alastor watched him curiously as he stood up, carting medical supplies back into a bag under his bed. _

_ “What’re you lookin’ at?” Husker snapped. Alastor held up his hands and went boneless in the bed, eyes shut. _

_ Husker sighed as he saw the x between Alastor’s eyes where his bangs had fallen away. Alastor opened one eye and raised an eyebrow with a childlike grin, gesturing Husker closer. Husker leaned away. _

_ “What, Alastor?” _

_ “You wanna know what… what I did? I haven’t told anyone-” _

_ “No. It was probably some fucked up voodoo-cannibal shit. I don’t care.” _

_ Alastor pouted. “Well, it wasn’t.” _

_ “Jesus Christ, you’re like a child.” _

_ Husker watched as exhaustion suddenly hit Alastor like a truck, the taller demon’s eyes drooping shut. He stood and went to get Alastor a blanket, but when he turned around, Alastor was trying to sit up, hissing around fresh stitches. Husker cursed, shoving Alastor back down with a string of colorful words before throwing the thick fleece over him. _

_ “What’re you doing?” _

_ Alastor flicked his wrist, a chair appearing beside his bed. Husker stared at it for a second before collapsing in it like a sack of potatoes, watching as Alastor’s eyes dropped shut and he curled into a small ball. Husker almost thought it was cute before a red eye snapped back open, looking annoyed. _

_ “Quit watching.” _

_ “You’re fucking  _ annoying  _ when you’re drunk-” _

_ Alastor huffed and closed his eye, pulling the blanket up to his chin with a weak cry. Husker almost felt bad for him (well he  _ did  _ feel bad for him but like  _ hell  _ he’d let Alastor know that). Alastor fidgeted once or twice before he drifted off, signaling for Husk to do the same. _

_ … Until an hour later when Alastor was talking in his sleep. _

_ “-g’ off… don’t- don’t touch ME-” _

_ Husker slapped a paw over his face. “Alastor-” _

_ Alastor yelped in his dream, and Husker immediately stopped being annoyed because Alastor was not smiling. Alastor was  _ not  _ smiling and he looked scared and small just like- _

-just like now when Husker let Alastor’s full weight flop into him like a dead fish, trying to ignore how comfortable Alastor seemed in his drunken stupor around him. He wasn’t aware Alastor was talking until the Radio Demon quite literally  _ bit _ him, making Husker hiss, ready to rip Alastor to shreds when he saw the look Al was giving him.

Alastor looked scared and small with his ears flattened against his skull.

Husker glanced over at the dynamic trio, who were all still fussing over each other. Maybe they were too scared to try and handle Alastor right now, and Husk didn’t blame them. If Husk didn’t have a death wish, he was sure he’d act the same. So he tapped Al’s antler and frowned.

“What did ya say?”

Alastor grimaced. “I don’t want to be here.”

His accent was out. Husk nodded and scooped up his surprisingly light compatriot. Alastor flicked his wrist and the scenery changed, but instead of an obscurely dark room that smelled like amber and blood, Husk found himself in one that reeked of alcohol.

“Alastor, wrong roo- god fucking dammit.”

Alastor seemed to have passed out with the last exertion of his powers, now laying limply in Husk’s arms.

“Whatever,” Husker muttered, throwing Alastor down in an unceremonial heap onto his unmade bed. “Fine. Stay in my room. Bitch when you wake up about how dirty it is. Couldn’t’ve spirited yourself away to your own bed, huh, jackass?”

But when Husk threw the blankets over Alastor, the anger was gone. He felt bad. Husk didn’t think he’d ever really understand Alastor, but he did know that Alastor hated showing weakness and probably felt like shit right now. It was probably best to give him space, but. But he was in Husker’s bed, and Husker wanted to be in his own bed.

So he flopped down next to Alastor, pulled out a bottle of brandy from his bedside table, and prepared himself to be flayed when Alastor woke up sober and jittery.

Husk nearly choked when Alastor rolled over and buried himself in Husker’s wing, nuzzling into the feathers. He immediately tried to pry Alastor off, screaming in defeat when he couldn’t budge the lanky red asshole. Husk flopped down and crossed his arms, relenting to Alastor’s will once again for the millionth time.

Mostly because he was too lazy to actually try and get the leech off.

Husker sighed and made sure there was a barrier of blanket between him and anything relating to Alastor’s skin before closing his eyes.

But the reek of the rest of Alastor’s bloodstained clothes was killing him. Husker just prayed to whatever gods that be as he whipped the blanket off, shredding and chucking Alastor’s redder than usual slacks to the wind before realizing…

Well, Husk gave up before another layer had to go. At least those somehow escaped the carnage.

He threw the blanket back over Alastor like a fortress wall. Alastor curled right back up like a fawn.

Husk groaned and closed his eyes again, trying to desperately get sleep before Alastor sobered up and started World War III in his bedroom. He waited for a moment, just in case Alastor started talking, but…

Alastor was silent. No white noise, no radio signals, no sleep talking. That was… a first.

Husk nodded and didn’t bother to wonder what that meant when sleep and exhaustion took him, trying to ignore the fact he had wrapped himself around Alastor protectively, a wing shielding Alastor from view if anyone were to venture inside.

But he would be sure to let Alastor know that  _ he chose to come here and curl up next to him  _ when the demon inevitably awoke confused and violent.

… Husk found himself not caring.

Goddammit, he was too fond of this little bastard.

**Author's Note:**

> Some headcanon notes:  
> 1\. Alastor and Husk have fought overlords together. Husk is a military man and Alastor is Stronk.  
> 2\. Alastor is a very oversharing-y, giggly drunk. Husk hates it.  
> 3\. Alastor has up a Louisiana accent, but hides it. You can fight me on this, but you will lose.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
